


but just maybe

by soulgraves



Series: Blam Week 2016 Fills [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Cheerleaders, M/M, Season/Series 03, Tutoring, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 00:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8348599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulgraves/pseuds/soulgraves
Summary: I’m sixteen, he thinks, and wonders if anyone else holds onto their age like a mantra.[For Blam Week 2016, Day 1: Jock/Cheerleader.]





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic about Blaine being sixteen, because the lack of teenagers being teenagers in this show drives me up the wall.
> 
> (It's also a S3 AU where Sam goes to McKinley but never joined glee club, where Blaine managed to cling to some of the personality he had the previous season, and where the cheerleading squad also features guys in a casual, expected way and not because of one of Sue's awful comments.)

 

**~**

 

To say Kurt’s unimpressed when Blaine signs up to the tutoring programme would be an understatement.

“But _why?_ ” he says, and Blaine doesn’t know how to explain that the New Directions can’t be his everything. At Dalton he’d been a Warbler, sure, but he’d also been on the track team and the social committee and helped run the bi-annual charity drive. He’d been a part of the _student body_ , and now he’s picked up his life and started all over, and the idea of slipping into anonymity terrifies him.

It’s why it had taken Coach Sylvester less that two sentences to talk him onto the Cheerios, and it’s why he’d been the first to raise his hand when Ms. Kirkwall had requested tutors in his AP English class, and he _knows_ Kurt feels like it’s stealing time they could be spending together, but Blaine can’t spend the rest of his high school career being a glee kid and nothing else.

He _won’t_.

“It’s only one afternoon a week,” he says instead of explaining, and Kurt huffs and twists the strap on his satchel, not meeting Blaine’s eye. “I’ll try and schedule it for when you and Rachel are doing NYADA prep.” 

Kurt still looks put out, but the mention of NYADA helps, and he’s calmer when he says, “You should be coming along to that too, to get a head start.”

Blaine’s heart squeezes uncomfortably but he smiles and walks Kurt to his next class, standing as close as he dares.

 

**~**

 

His first tutoring session is…certainly something. Blaine’s not sure what he’s been expecting but it definitely isn’t Sam Evans, windswept and out of breath. 

“Hi,” he says, unloading books onto the library table with a self-deprecating smile, “I brought pretty much everything, I wasn’t sure what I’d need.”

Blaine knows who Sam is. _Everyone_ knows who Sam is. He’s on about four different sports teams, is constantly raising money to help the local homeless shelter, and has — as far as Blaine’s aware — never thrown a slushie in anyone’s face. He wears too much plaid and always smells of flavored chapstick and came out of nowhere to win the school’s mural competition last month.

He’s also _gorgeous_.

“Hi,” he says, as professionally as he can, “I’m Blaine Anderson.”

“Dude,” Sam says, laughing, “I _know_. You were awesome in West Side Story.”

Blaine fights down his blush and draws the topic back to the pile of textbooks in front of them, and they spend the next half hour listing the areas Sam needs extra help whilst Blaine tries not to stare at Sam’s vintage Superman t-shirt. Sam’s serious about improving his grades, and Blaine had honestly expected to end up tied to someone who’d ignore him in favor of their cellphone.

“I’m dyslexic,” Sam says. “It’s not that I don’t get the points I have to make, it’s just a lot harder to work through the source material in time. Also, you know, don’t trust spellcheck. I’ve made _that_ mistake too many times.”

Blaine smiles, digging around for his highlighters. “I could read to you?” he says. “Then you could write the essays and I’ll just look over them for spelling and grammar?”

“Sure,” Sam says, “if that’s cool with you?”

“Definitely,” Blaine says, and tries not to stare at Sam’s smile.

 

**~**

 

Glee club’s great. It _is_. It’s just—

Blaine’s not used to the lack of structure. Mr Schue never seems to know what the theme of the week’s going to be until he walks in the room, and Blaine knows as well as anyone how quickly the competition season can sneak up. No one else seems to care, though, and, yes, Blaine understands the power of music but he’s a little overwhelmed at how often the New Directions use the club as a therapy substitution or another passive aggressive play in whatever fight they’re in. 

Kurt says it’s what makes them _special_ , and Blaine nods and smiles and misses the dedication and fun of the Warblers.

Mostly Blaine misses _singing_. Despite what Santana says, he doesn’t get the chance to test out his vocal chords much, and even when he does, the shroud of judgement over the room is enough to take out most of the joy. 

This weeks theme is another moral intervention aimed at members of the group of that aren’t him, and Kurt invites Blaine to rehearse with him and Rachel and possibly Mercedes, and looks put out when Blaine reminds him he has Cheerios practice.

“Fine,” Kurt says, and Blaine feels unreasonably guilty.

“I’ll see you tonight though,” Blaine says, and Kurt frowns and then rolls his eyes.

“Oh no. I’m not sitting through _another_ substandard football game. Even my dad’s stopped making me go. I think he’s realized supporting Finn’s not worth the headache I’ll give him about the damage the cold does to my skin.”

“Right,” Blaine says, and doesn’t point out that it’s actually _him_ he’d hoped Kurt would be coming to support. Football games are little more than practices for the Cheerios, but it’s still a public display, and Blaine’s new enough to it that he could have used a friendly face in the crowd. “Tomorrow then.”

 _This isn’t how it was supposed to be_ , he thinks as Kurt waves him off.

Blaine’s not sure he has anyone to blame but himself.

 

**~**

 

Cheerleading isn’t the same as being onstage, but the rush of adrenaline and the roar of the crowd leaves him buzzing all the same.

Blaine’s surprised by how much he likes most of the squad. Coach Sylvester is straight out of the tyrants handbook, and based on the few encounters he’d had before he joined the team, he’d expected them to be a Hollywood stereotype. Mostly they’re all just exhausted athletes who are surviving Sue to try and get college scholarships down the line, and Blaine shakes off his preconceptions and starts getting to know them individually, pleased when they’re just as receptive, and wonders if he has time to go to the regular post-game hang out _and_ get his homework done for the night.

One of the smaller girls, Susie, nudges him and he turns to see Sam jogging his way, helmet under his arm.

“Hey,” he says, “you’re coming to Breadstix right?”

“Only if you shower first,” Blaine says without thinking, and Sam tips his head back and laughs. 

“Deal,” he says, and punches Blaine lightly in the arm as he passes.

“I didn’t know you were friends,” Susie says when he’s gone, and she doesn’t sound suggestive or suspicious, just surprised.

Blaine didn’t know they were either.

 

**~**

 

It turns out the Superman t-shirt hadn’t been a fluke.

Sam Evans is a _nerd_ , and Blaine’s giddy with it.

“Oh my god,” he says, “ _no one’s_ read that run. They all think I’m talking about the reality show!”

The pizza tray in front of them’s mostly empty, and Blaine’s drinking coffee so he’ll be okay on the drive home. Sam’s twirling his straw around his empty soda glass, crushing the ice, and yawning into his hand.

“Wanna know a secret?” he says, and Blaine leans in closer, the edge of the table digging into his stomach. “I want to be a comic book artist one day.”

“That,” Blaine says, “is the coolest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Sam’s eyes soften into an expression Blaine can’t place.

“Come on,” Sam says, “I’ll walk you to your car.”

 

**~**

 

The tutoring sessions are easy after that. Sam’s serious about studying and Blaine’s serious about helping him, and, it might be ego, but all that time on the stage means Blaine’s pretty great at making text come to life. He doesn’t look up from the page much, but when he does Sam’s always leant forward, chin in hand, listening intently, and Blaine can’t help but put on more of a show just to see Sam’s eyes light up.

“What do you want to do after high school?” Sam asks one afternoon once Blaine’s finished the chapters Sam needs for his assignment.

 _To live in New York, to go to NYADA, to be half of the perfect power couple_ , Blaine thinks, the words repeating around his head.

“To perform,” he says, and it’s about as close to honest as he’s risked being since he came to McKinley.

“Do you know what college you want to go to?” Sam asks, because apparently it’s a day for shoving Blaine out of his comfort zone. 

Blaine’s gaze darts around the room but the only other people there are a couple of freshman a few stacks away. “I don’t know,” he says eventually, like he doesn’t already have a stack of brochures hidden at the bottom of his desk drawer. “Maybe…maybe NYU or UCLA. Berkeley would be amazing, and apparently Michigan has a great Performing Arts program.” 

It’s the first time in months he hasn’t automatically said NYADA and he can feel the mask beginning to slip and worries the whole world can see.

Sam just smiles. “Cool,” he says, and that’s that.

 _Cool_ , Blaine thinks.

Maybe it is.

 

**~**

 

Kurt and Rachel get into a fight, and Blaine spends the evening listening to Kurt rant about what an awful person she is as Finn hovers near the door and looks guilty even as he sends a steady stream of texts.

“What?” he says when Blaine ducks into the kitchen for a drink. “I mean, Kurt’s family now and all, but Rachel’s my _girlfriend_ , dude. If I don’t she won’t let me near her boobs for, like, a week.”

Blaine sighs and makes Kurt some jasmine tea.

His cell buzzes around hour two of creative insults, all of which he’s pretty sure he’s heard from Santana before, and he glances at it before doing a double take.

 _hi susie gave me your # hope thts cool hows it goin?_ Then: _this is sam btw._

Blaine’s fairly sure Kurt isn’t even really aware he’s still in the room so he doesn’t feel too bad about texting back.

 _All us glee club kids are too dramatic for our own good,_ he sends and feels the brief thrill of saying something he knows he’s not supposed to.

 _haha bet the ftball team r worse_ , comes back a minute later, and Blaine has to stifle a laugh in his sleeve.

It doesn’t matter that he’s lived it, Blaine’s still not entirely sure how he and Sam became friends, not really. If you’d asked him before if he had friends at McKinley he would have grinned and said ‘of course’, but now he’s not so sure that’s true. He has Kurt and he has _Kurt’s_ friends (or frenemies or rivals or whatever they are week to week) but it’s only since he started spending time with the squad and with _Sam_ that he realized how _lonely_ the move to McKinley had been.

Kurt pauses in the middle of a sentence to shoot him a look that suggests his distraction hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Who’s that?” he asks, and Blaine’s mouth goes a little dry.

“A friend,” he says honestly, tucking his phone away, and jumping at the chance to help Carole with the groceries as she walks through the door before Kurt can start up again.

“Hmpf,” Kurt says.

Blaine pretends he hasn’t heard.

 

**~**

 

“You’ve got a boyfriend, right?” Sam asks after the next game, walking Blaine back to his car after too much pizza and coffee, their own little tradition.

Blaine freezes before pulling himself together. He’s not sure what worries him more: that Sam somehow might not have known he was gay and it’s going to ruin this wonderful thing that’s been building between them, or that he’s spent weeks in Sam’s company and not mentioned Kurt, at least not in a boyfriend-ly way.

That the first option is the one to make him feel a little sick is probably far more telling than it should be.

“Yes,” he says because he’s never been one to lie about this part of him. “Yeah.”

Sam runs a hand over the back of his neck, pulling the sleeves of his Wonder Woman shirt tighter across his arms, and it’s only then that Blaine sees he’s _blushing_.

“That sucks,” Sam says, ducking his head. “For me, I mean,” and Blaine’s whole world tilts sideways.

 

**~**

 

Sam Evans has a crush on him.

 _Sam Evans_ has a crush on him.

 _Sam Evans_ has a _crush_ on _him._

Blaine brushes off the niggling self-doubt that it’s all some sort of elaborate prank; he knows Sam better than that, and he hardly has a target on his back anyway, even with the double-whammy of being a gay glee club member.

It’s just—

Blaine’s sixteen and he used to know what that meant — school and friends and singing and parties and flirting with boys whose eyes lingered — but since he moved to McKinley it’s like he’s slipped into the role of playing adult too soon, huge decisions and ‘true love’ and forever written out for him in permanent marker.

He misses Saturday night dorm parties with vodka stolen from someone’s parents liquor cabinet, misses kissing boys in shadows as they cling to the last shreds of their heterosexuality, misses curling his fingers into a fist and feeling the split of knuckles and adrenaline. He misses making the sort of mistakes that won’t matter in a week, and right now—

Right now he misses being free to crush on a boy who makes his heart beat too fast.

(A boy who’s crushing on _him._ )

 

**~**

 

Blaine knows he should tell Kurt about Sam. Not that there’s anything to tell, not really; Kurt knows Blaine’s tutoring him (though the way his eyes glaze over whenever Blaine talks about it might actually suggest otherwise), and Sam’s feelings aren’t Blaine’s to offer around.

Still, it makes Blaine’s skin itch, the sort of secret that’s a little too settled and a little too _real_ , and Blaine knows that’s because of him. If it was honestly nothing then he wouldn’t want to keep it locked up, an automatic high sitting at the edge of his mind ready to fix a bad day. 

He _should_ tell Kurt but he won’t, and isn’t that just the beginning of the end.

 

**~**

 

“I thought you were out with Shane tonight?” Kurt says as Mercedes slides into the booth next to Rachel, nudging Finn closer to the wall. He pulls a face and tries to slide an arm around Rachel’s shoulders but she brushes him away and fixes her posture, and Blaine wonders whether they’re in a real fight or if it’s over pizza toppings.

“He had a family thing,” Mercedes says, taking a sip of Kurt’s soda. “Besides, it’s been ages since we all hung out.”

Blaine catches Artie’s raised eyebrow and wonders if a lot of the glee club friendships aren’t mostly fabricated. Also if anyone realizes they didn’t invite Tina and Mike.

Rachel starts a conversation about costumes for the next competition that Finn visibly zones out of, and Blaine tries to follow along even as he thinks Artie’s got the right idea, playing Tetris on his phone and ignoring them all. It’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s just that the only conversations they seem to have are about glee club or relationships or a future that _involves_ glee club and relationships, and sometimes it’s so much it makes Blaine want to break out in hives.

( _I’m sixteen_ , he wants to scream.)

“Um, hi, sorry to interrupt,” someone says, and Blaine blinks back to reality to find Chandra a few steps from their table, swinging a bright yellow purse over her shoulder and smiling awkwardly. Chandra’s Susie’s best friend, sitting middle of the pyramid and a pro at flip sequences, and she and Blaine once had a forty-five minute conversation about minority representation in TV shows whilst Coach Sylvester screamed abuse at two of the senior girls because their high ponytails weren’t symmetrical.

Blaine absolutely considers her a friend after that.

“Blaine,” she says, “I just wanted to know if you wanted a ride tomorrow night? I’ve still got a spot free in the car, and heaven knows I’m not letting Susie play designated driver again.”

Blaine laughs. “Yeah,” he says. “If I’m not too far out of your way?”

Susie shrugs. “You’re good. I’ll swing by about nine?”

He nods and she throws him a wave as she joins the older girl waiting by the door who can’t be anyone but her sister, and Blaine waves back and then realizes everyone else is watching him.

“What?” he asks, and Kurt takes a deep breath.

“What’s tomorrow night?” he asks, like he doesn’t know the answer, and Blaine frowns.

“Jack Turner’s party,” he says, “I told you about it and you said you’d rather sit through an hour of Sugar Motta singing opera than go.”

“Yes,” Kurt says, and Blaine realizes this is a fight, that they’re fighting in the middle of Breadstix in front of their friends and he doesn’t even understand why. “I thought that meant _you_ weren’t going either.” 

It’s an ultimatum. Say he won’t go and pause the inevitable argument in its tracks, or—

_Or._

“Of course I’m going,” Blaine says, and holds his ground.

 

**~**

 

Chandra lets him ride shotgun, and then shares exasperated looks with him as Susie and her boyfriend Miles trip into the backseat, giggling in a way that can only come from pre-drinking, Naomi rolling her eyes fondly as she follows them in and a bag of bottles clatter at her feet. 

(“I was taught never to turn up to a party empty handed,” she says with a shrug. “Also, my brother has an awesome fake ID.”)

There’s already a crowd by the time they get there, and Blaine tugs at the hem of his navy henley and goes in search of the inevitable keg, smiling back when anyone catches him in a hello. The keg’s on the back porch which shows a surprising amount of common sense, and Blaine grabs a red cup and waits in line.

“Hey,” Mike says, coming up to stand behind him and reaching for his own cup. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” Blaine says, and wonders if the merging of the two worlds is as weird for Mike as it is for him. “Is Tina here?”

“Nah,” Mike says, “she’s still grounded from last time.”

A couple of guys from the team appear, swinging arms over shoulders and laughing about their last game, and Blaine grins along and goes to turn away, but then he’s being drawn into conversation and asked about spring break and it hits him that most of these guys? Most of these guys are just teenage boys. Sure, there’s the odd douchebag littered amongst their ranks, but by large they’re just loud and hyperactive and a little ignorant, and Blaine thinks he could grow to _like_ a lot of them once he’s talked them out of the thoughtless gay jokes. 

(From what he’s picked up, it used to be Finn and Puck front and center of most the damage, and that…makes Blaine kind of uncomfortable, actually. He’s all for giving people chances, but he’s lived through enough of his own torment to find any of this _okay_ , and maybe it makes him the lesser man or whatever, but he wonders if Finn or Puck have ever faced repercussions or if all was forgiven in the face of a bit of talent.)

Once he has his drink he ducks out, heading back into the ever-growing swell of people and the thud of music with more bass than lyrics. Members of the squad grab him to catch up, and he and Jack end up playing base to Lou as she tries to find her girlfriend over the crowd only to fall down laughing when Jack changes the words of a chant to something significantly dirtier. 

It’s _fun_ , he’s _having_ fun, and it’s only made better when Sam appears, wrapping fingers around his arm and laughing a greeting into his ear.

Blaine’s cup’s empty for the third time so they push back out into the garden, now abandoned except for a crying sophomore being comforted by her friends. The keg’s long dead but there’s some unopened cans sat in an ice bucket and Blaine passes one to Sam and grabs one for himself, playing with the tab and letting the night air brush against his overheated skin.

“Having a good time?” Sam asks, and Blaine laughs.

“Yes,” he says, and he knows it could be the alcohol talking, but he feels like _himself_ for the first time since he left Dalton’s hallowed halls. He’s going to wake up tomorrow morning with a hangover and embarrassing pictures scattered across the internet and on Monday he’ll exchange sympathetic shrugs with fellow partygoers by the lockers and none of them will regret a minute of it.

Sam’s standing closer now, his arm brushing Blaine’s, and he has that gentle smile he gets sometimes. He leans in and Blaine turns his head, and Sam’s lips brush against his cheek instead, a barely-there warmth.

“Sorry,” Sam says. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay,” Blaine says, and doesn’t regret that, either.

 

**~**

 

Blaine spends most of Sunday in bed, nursing a sore head and catching up with his usual blogs. He’d been right about the photos, but the ones he’s been tagged in are mostly harmless; he doesn’t look _sober_ , but he looks happy and included, and it’s nice to look at the tags and realize the people smiling back at him are friends.

There’s one picture of him and Sam, and it’s innocent enough — two drunk boys stood a little too close — except Blaine looks at it and sees Sam’s soft smile and the glint in his eye as he leaned in and the way he’d said “I’m bisexual” when Blaine had asked, and it’s not innocent at all.

The burn of guilt sits under his skin, and he lets it settle before he unravels it.

Secrets are hurtful, but Blaine thinks the bigger secret isn’t Sam, not really. It’s _him_ , and all the ways he’s nodded along and kept quiet, letting his future be wrapped over his shoulders like a coat two sizes too small. 

He came to McKinley because Kurt asked him too, begged and pleaded a thousand little cases that didn’t ring true, and won only because Blaine couldn’t say no, not in the end. He doesn’t want to hurt Kurt, of course he doesn’t, but a high school break-up is a far easier thing to bear than watching someone else pen his future without even realizing they’re doing it.

 _I’m sixteen_ , he thinks, and wonders if anyone else holds onto their age like a mantra.

 

**~**

 

Kurt takes it about as well as Blaine expected, which is to say not well at all.

“ _Why?_ ” he says, and Blaine tries to find the words to explain and falls short.

“We’re not working,” he says instead, and Kurt chokes out a bitter laugh.

“I thought we were working just fine,” he says, and Blaine wants to say, _don’t you see? that’s the problem!_ but he can’t, not when there’s tears in Kurt’s eyes.

“I know,” Blaine says, and wonders if the truth really does help, “but it’s not what I want.”

Kurt shutters down. “There’s someone else,” he says, and Blaine can’t quite say no, but he doesn’t want Kurt to think that’s the reason this is happening because it’s not.

“I don’t want to go to NYADA,” he says instead. “I’ve _never_ wanted to go to NYADA. I don’t even know that I want to go to New York.” 

Kurt looks at him like he’s crazy.

“Yes you do,” Kurt says desperately, and Blaine shakes his head with a sad smile.

“I really don’t,” he says, “but you’d know that if you’d ever asked.”

He thinks it might be the first time he’s ever seen Kurt lost for words, and if the situation weren’t so tragic he’d laugh. Kurt looks confused and unsure, and Blaine thinks that maybe he’ll understand after all. Kurt’s had the perfect picture of Blaine in his head since that day on the Dalton steps, and he thinks it must be exhausting for both of them pretending he’s nothing less than Prince Charming when all he really is is a teenage boy.

“Are you staying in glee club?” Kurt asks, a small concession that Blaine honestly hadn’t expected and is grateful for all the same.

“Yes,” he says, because _that_ really is a part of him.

“Fine,” Kurt says, and Blaine wonders if one day they might be friends again like they were _before_ or if that’s too much to hope for.

 

**~**

 

Life goes on.

Glee club’s a little stilted; they’re Kurt’s friends and he was Kurt’s boyfriend, and now they’re not sure what to make of him, but Blaine holds his ground because performing is equivalent to breathing, and is grateful for Mike who chats with him as everyone files into the room, and for Tina and Artie and Brittany who couldn’t care less about his relationship status.

Cheerleading gets more challenging and Blaine thrives on it, teaching his body to move in ways he never knew it could. He throws himself into his friendships with the squad and finds his social life full to the brim, and when members of the football team talk to him in the halls he realizes that this is him, accepted and liked and a part of something, and it’s every goal he’d set himself when he’d made the transfer.

The first tutoring session with Sam after the party starts off awkwardly until Sam puts his head on the table and groans, and Blaine laughs at him for five minutes and then makes him talk about feminist theory in gothic literature for the next hour.

It’s two weeks before Sam asks about Blaine and Kurt’s break up, and Blaine wonders if that’s because he was being respectful or because he didn’t know.

“It’s not— It wasn’t because of me, right?” Sam asks, looking guilty, and Blaine wishes the world was full of guys this wonderful.

“No,” Blaine says. “It was about me.”

“Oh,” Sam says, nodding his head and seemingly unaware of his own pout. Blaine bites back a smile.

“Yeah,” Blaine says, and then, because he can: “You should ask me if I have a boyfriend again, though. In a few weeks.”

Sam’s head shoots up, and Blaine swears his eyes are sparkling.

 

**~**

 

Coach Sylvester locks down the squad in the most intense pre-competition regime Blaine’s ever experienced, and he barely has enough energy left at the end of the day to fall between the shower and bed let alone hold down a social life. At least he has the rest of the squad, and the snatches of conversation between drills are enough to hold them all over until they’re on a plane and travelling half way across the country, coming back with a giant trophy and smiles wide enough to hurt.

Every part of him aches, but he’s _proud_ — of the squad, of himself — and when they’re greeted back at the auditorium with banners and streamers and cries of congratulations from the other school teams it’s the sort of memory Blaine knows he’s going to hold with him for the rest of his life.

“Dude,” Sam says, finding him amongst the throngs of people, “congrats!”

“Thanks,” Blaine says, and wraps his arms around Sam’s waist, pulling him into a hug. He hears Sam’s breath catch and thinks _I hope I remember this, too._

“So,” Sam says, resting his temple against Blaine’s and lowering his voice. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” Blaine says, and feels silly and free and _happy_. “Why? Are you offering?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, and Blaine can feel his laughter down to his toes. “I am.”

 

**~**

 

Sam takes Blaine to a movie on Friday night, Blaine takes Sam for Chinese food on Saturday, and on Sunday they babysit Sam’s brother and sister, hanging out on the couch and eating all the junk foods Blaine’s been banned from the last few weeks. They channel hop and make out but mostly they talk, and it’s nice knowing that having a best friend and a boyfriend don’t have to be mutually exclusive.

There’s a moment on his drive home, fleeting and unsubstantial, where he worries about what the morning will bring, but he refuses to dwell on it because in the end it doesn’t matter.

He _likes_ Sam. Sam’s sweet and smart and funny and kind and he makes Blaine’s toes curl, and when Blaine thinks about the future he hopes Sam’s there, hopes it _desperately_ , but he’s also learned his lesson and he’s happy just taking each day as it comes.

He’s too young to wish his life away, and with Sam he doesn’t feel the need to. He knows they’ll get mad and they’ll fight and they’ll make up, but it’s the parts in between he’s excited about, the adventures and the comfort and the stupid mistakes and kissing a boy he likes just because he likes him. 

He’s sixteen and Sam’s sixteen and high school drama doesn’t scare him at all.

 

**~**

 

On Monday morning, Sam finds him at his locker, starting up an old conversation half-way through, and Blaine smiles up at him and wants to hold his hand, and when Sam breaks off mid-sentence Blaine thinks maybe he should have been expecting it, but he’s not.

Sam leans down and kisses him, and Blaine presses up on his toes and kisses him back, fingers clenching against Sam’s letterman jacket, and thinks _we’re such a high school cliche._

Blaine can hear someone laughing, and he’s pretty sure it’s Susie so he flips her off and she starts laughing harder, and then Sam’s smiling against his lips and Blaine remembers where they are and still doesn’t care. 

“Hi,” Sam says when they part, low and quiet and just for him.

Out the corner of his eye Blaine can see Rachel storming off and Finn following, and he can already imagine the conversations ahead he should probably be worrying about.

“Hi,” he says instead, leaning up for another kiss, and thinks _being a teenager’s not so bad_.

 

**~**

 


End file.
